RADJAR gingerly walked up the stairway into his room, a tower chamber bearing a large window. His room was decorated with relics from the past... His Dragon Master shield, Samurai armour, and his gilded kahli. Radjar slipped off his shirt and displayed his sleek and sinewy form, offset by his long, deep red scar. He then set his katana wiht scabbard on a table, which bore a map of Dark Forest. Radjar yawned and looked at the nearby window. It was midnight, and the moon was coming into place, staring right into Radjar's window. Radjar gazed at the ivory orb floating there. The moon finally rested right in place of Radjar's window, cosmic rays spreading through the room. Radjar felt a sensation all over, and he was engulfed with a blast of shadow magic. When the magic had disappated, Radjar was on the floor. He slowly got up. It was just the same Radjar- slim yet muscular body, flowing wine-coloured hair, deep and narrow hazelnut eyes, a pale face with high cheekbones, and a good sized, pointed nose. Radjar walked over to his mirror and looked in... he was just the normal Radjar. He opened his mouth and shrank back in horror... For where his incisors had been there were now...

Fangs.

"Alright Kif, let's show these freaks what a bloated, runaway military budget can do"

Sheath climbed up the walls of the Wolfpack border city known as Siastrakahn. The walls were slightly sloped, making his ascent by grappling hook a little bit easier. He moved silently, and even the noise of the metal hook hitting the stone seemed quieter than it should. He was almost over the inner wall. It was almost midnight. The top tower of the tallest tower was near as he struggled up the now vertical surface. He climbed between the merlons of the tower, silently dropping to the floor at the top. A small torch burned near him as he watched for any sign of movement inside the fortress walls.

It all was too still for some reason, all too still. The view was magnificent, he could see across the forest from which he came, all the way to Classic Legoland territory. A noise cam from behind him, a clank of metal against stone. He peeked down the spiral staircase and felt his heart beat faster. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, which was in the holster at his side. Then a scream of pain broke the night silence: his scream. As if being tortured by an invisible force, he fell to the ground twitching madly. A shadow began to climb the stairs, the body not quite visible to Sheath yet. He feared it was an enemy soldier coming to capture him. But he couldn't move, the invisible chains held him down. A man almost identical in appearance to himself came into view from the stairs. His face was covered in a black hood, his white teeth showed as he grinned.

"So the prophecy is true..." Sheath whispered as the figure seemed to stare at him.

"Don't be afraid to talk." said the man. "They're all dead." Sheath's eyes widened as he thought of this, 400 men dead from one man?

The figure still smiled at Sheath, and he barely moved his lips as he talked "You've come to the end of your path, Sheath...the end of your path." He drew a sword from his hilt. The blade glistened with the power of light. Sheath screamed and tried to break the invisible force holding him down.

"It is useless to resist. Light will always win." smirked the figure as he approached Sheath. "Even if the light isn't all pure."

Graygon and Willem were scanning the horizon, seeing nothing of interest Graygon asked "Why do we wait? This is a Wolfpack problem, and we should take care of it ourselves." Graygon said "I know, and we should. But, we might be hard pressed trying to get to Defoe." Willem said. "Yea, and if you show up, all the men in his grasp could also turn against him in an instant too." Graygon said. "All I know is I would rather die taking care of things on our own, then have to depend on outsiders that we can hardly keep a truce with." Graygon added. "We can easily make it to our homeland, and we can easily enough make it close to Daggerfall Spire without any trouble." Then all we need to do is find out how strong his grasp is of your men." Graygon said. "If you think it will work, then it will." "We will be on our way soon." Willem said. "Graygon, you find a good cart and two horses that will not be missed. I will get the rest of what we need." Willem added. With that the two separated and went to gather what they needed.

If it doesn't fit FORCE IT! If it breaks then it needed to be replaced anyways.

The time had come, the sun had just dropped below the horizon. Everyone was too busy to notice Graygon, covered in a long cloak and tending to the horses he was ready for Willem to show up. It wasn't but five minutes and Graygon spotted Willem approaching, he was dressed much the same as Graygon, and was carrying a good size load. As Willem got to the cart and fastened his load Graygon said "So out of the frying pan and in to the fire." Willem just made a slight chuckle."Well if we sneak out now we should be able to get by with out much trouble. Everyone seems quite busy at the moment." Willem said. On that note the two grabbed some mud and tried to make themselves as unappealing as possible. "Dirty up the horses while your at it Graygon, no sense in letting them look better than us." Willem said. "As soon as we make it to the nearest dock we can clean up there." Willem added.

With that the two were off, taking a small path south till they got into the cover of darkness, then turning east. "We should be able to pick up the pace now, and in a day or so we should be close to a dock." Graygon said.

If it doesn't fit FORCE IT! If it breaks then it needed to be replaced anyways.

Grid: M-7
Location: Top of the Highest Tower, Wolfpack Fortress of Siastrakahn

Sheath was bound to the ground by his own fear of the light. The great prophecy he had learned in his life before birth was coming true. The figure approached Sheath from the stairwell, a golden sword in his hands as he prepared to end Sheath’s life. As he drew closer, Sheath could make out his face as he cringed in pain.

“Yariyikah…” he barely whispered. The figure stooped as the blade’s point came to rest above Sheath’s neck.

“We will see about that.” Sheath said. With a swift motion, Sheath leapt from the floor, and Yariyikah felt the Dark forces break his barrier of purity. Sheath drew his blade from his side and Yariyikah went into fighting stance. The two swords were identical, but Yariyikah’s glowed with the power of light, and Sheath’s with the shadow of dark. The two swords clashed above their heads. Sheath’s blade made a C-sweep for Yariyikah’s legs and missed as Yariyikah leapt into the air. He then dropped down behind Sheath and sliced upward, meeting Sheath’s blade behind his back. Yariyikah stabbed for Sheath’s groin and was blocked in an upward slice. Sheath then took advantage of his opponent’s stance to lunge at his chest. He hit Yariyikah with his shoulder, sending him flying into the tower wall.

“The hunter always wins, Yariyikah. Always.” Said Sheath as he raised his blade to Yariyikah’s neck. Yariyikah looked inside himself for strength. All he found was an image. An image of the two great gods of light and dark dueling. The two worlds were colliding; this could be the final confrontation.

Remember, when you reach for the stars, they're too far away and its hopeless. And even if you could, that would burn your hand clean off. - Wally, from Scott Adams' "Dilbert"

Through the night Bjarn and Dale traveled, Shainya still sleeping deeply in the makeshift stretcher. Dawn broke over the hills to the east, but Bjarn and Dale did not notice. It was nearly noon before they reached another Crusader village, but not one person was to be seen. While Bjarn kept a low profile tending the horses, Dale entered the village on foot. Soon, he was back again, shaking his head.

"Everyone's inside their houses, scared stiff. They're all afraid the Dragon Masters will attack them after they learned the fate of Olgendale."

Bjarn shrugged as he retied the ropes that held Shainya to the stretcher. "Then we'll manage without supplies until we get to another town, there's got to be a place somewhere in this megabloks Crusader land that don't have people who cower inside their tidy little houses."

Dale stared at the old Forester awhile before saying "Why are you doing this?"

Bjarn looked up, startled. "What?"

Dale continued "Why are you helping us? We both just met only hours ago and know nothing about each other, yet you help Shainya and myself while risking your own safty."

"I'm not risking anything."

"Yes you are, I've hear of you. You are wanted all over the Crusaders land for stealing a state-of-the-art ship from the port city of Farburg!"

Aaaaaahhh..the Shadow... Bjarn thought to himself, Well, it's not been the first time I've been wanted for stealing by the Crusaders

"Well?" Dale promted, "Why are you helping us?"

Bjarn glared at the young bard. "I have my reasons. Now get on the horse, we must continue if we are to save your Shainya."

Leidenheim was situated at the head of a small bay, a natural harbour, and being well-sheltered, and closely accessible to the strait between it and the mainland, was the chief port and administrative centre of the Crusader colony.

While the governor had his home at the top of a high hill, it was in the lower land beside the sea that most people, residents or visitors stayed. It was here that the three strangers first appeared.

No had seen them come, no one had seen them before. No one but they knew where they were from, and they weren't telling. The logical surmise was that they had come by ship, Leidenheim being a port, and all.

"That's hardly always the case," smiled the Old Man, "only when you're around."

"It makes no difference if I'm not there, does it?" grumbled Sir Dractor.

"Oh be quiet," groaned Elwen, "it's raining, and I want to get to an inn. Where is it, Old Man?"

"I have no idea, the last time I was here was around ninety years ago," said the Old Man calmly. "But that one up ahead should do fine. Let's go inquire about it. And remember: don't cause a disturbance."

Elwen groaned again: the inn the Old Man has selected was named the Pig's Wallow, and unfortunately, it looked appropriate.

The three companions ate a lukewarm soup in the Pig's Wallow's common room, surrounded by all sorts of scruffy seafarers, most of whom were probably former pirates, and several visitors from the country, who Sir Dractor would have guessed were dragon farmers from their general uncouthness and large muscles. The Old Man told him, amused, that there were no dragon farmers.

They climbed up to their room, which was precariously perched above the third floor, and right above a family that seemed to be trying to outsnore eachother.

"Well, at least we won't be overheard," said the Old Man. "Now, to business. We need to make our way up-island into the hills along the Royal Knight/Crusader border. Somewhere up there is a series of eleven creek-valleys. In one of those valleys lays a magical map that will direct us to our goal."

"Which you have no intention of revealing to me, do you?" said Elwen, both resignedly and sulkily.

"Certainly not," smiled the Old Man. "Now, Aethelred, would you be so good as to tear this chain apart." Sir Dractor stared at the rusty old chain the Old Man held up to him. I was perhaps a couple feet long, with thin, originally fine-looking links.

"Why in the name of Mud would you want me to do that?" he asked.

"Because that chain has eleven links, and it has been enchanted by a local wizard so that when it is torn, the link that breaks is the river valley that we want to find."

The ship looked almost filmy as it disappeared back into the night. But the Sorceror-King was not concerned. He may have been alone in the wild, but he was not alone in the world. His was the most powerful kingdom in the world, and he was the most powerful king. Only the Dark Lord was greater than he.

The Sorceror-king set off into the wilds, intending to strike across country to a Wolfpack port. There were some who said that the wilds were perilous, but not he. He was the Sorceror-king.

Sir Dractor was a big man, and more than that, he was strong. He grasped the cahin in both hands, and tugged.

Nothing happened.

He pulled again, and still, the thin, rusty chain held together, apparently without effort.

"This Muddy chain won't break," gasped Sir Dractor, the effort of trying to break the chain apparently more than it had appeared.

"Let Elwen try," said the Old Man.

"Me!" said Elwen. "But if Sir Dractor couldn't, then how could I..."

"Take it," ordered the Old Man gently. Elwen took the chain, held it in both hands, and tugged. The chain snapped almost instantly. The Old Man seemed to smile slightly. He then looked at the broken link.

"Fourth from your left hand. That will be the fourth from the south. In Royal Knight territory."

Neither Elwen nor Sir Dractor were really listening. They were trying to puzzle out how the somewhat slender Elwen could rip the chain, and the muscular warrior could not.

She had hurt many times before, but never like this. She could not move for the pain was so bad. Even the slightest shifting of her body caused lightning bolts of red hot fire to lance up and down her spine.

An ulgy gargling crow issued from the roof of the farmer, a crow that sounded more like a blackbird with bronchitis than a rooster.

Dawn. Time to rekindle the fires. Time to sweep the floor. Time to feed the pigs. Time to get up.

But Rosa could not get up. The welts on her back commanded her to stay put. The cook, however, commanded something else.

The cook's threat was not to be taken lightly. When Rosa had ignored that same remark when she was ten, Cook had come up the ladder, thrown Rosa from the loft, and had beaten her until the handle of the pot had broken. Rosa had then been punished by the Master for breaking Cook's favorite pot.

Grimacing at the remembrance of that memory and the pain still stabbing into her back, Rosa heaved herself off the straw pallet that served as her bed and struggled not to cry out. She climbed down the ladder as fast her back would allow and began to attempt to light the logs in the ash encrusted fireplace.

"It had nothing to do with you," explained the Old Man, "but everything to do with Elwen. The girl has gifts that are very much uncommon. It was for those that I brought her along. As for the chain, there are maybe a dozen people in all these kingdoms who could have torn it. The wizard who enchanted it knew what he was doing, peculiar though his methods are."

Elwen, who was walking somewhat ahead of them, had heard nothing of what they said. She dropped back to them shortly after, a somewhat concerned expression on her face.

"What is it?" asked Sir Dractor.

"Nothing yet," she replied. "But a detachment of the local soldiers is up ahead. They seem to be searching everyone leaving the city."

"It's nothing to do with us," said the Old Man confidently. "Just remain polite, and we should soon be on our way. Leave the talking to me."

Sir Dractor said nothing, but he rested his shield arm on the hilt of his sword, just in case.

"Nevfang.. Ye' don't really want to go into that dreaded forest do ye'.. ?" an abrasive voice called out. He was a stocky fellow which stood around four and a half feet tall, most of his face was hidden behind his large messy beard, gripping his enormous axe, he looked towards his companion awaiting a reply....
"Yes, I'm affaid so Helmeir, If we intend to catch those cowardly Royal Knights..." a smooth voice replied, he stood much taller then his companion and had a much more slender built figure. His hair was mid back length and shined a silvery white, aside from his pointed ears he looked almost human. Looking back at his dwarven companion he continued. "You do wish to get back from them, what they've stolen from us.. Don't you ?""Aye, Point taken, lead the way.." Helmeir said stroking his beard.

The Forest was a dark and eery place even during mid-morning, the two moved at a steady pace through the trees, a heavy mist hung high off the ground meeting Helmeir at the neck and Nevfang at the waist. Several minutes later they made it to a large clearing with a small dirt trail, spotting some freshly made tracks Nevfang bent down to examine them.

"We're closing on them, they're just a few thousand yards ahead of us..." said Nevfang readying his bow.
"Aye, good they won't be gettin' too far." replied Helmeir setting down on a large stone.
"We should keep moving....""Ye' should learn some patients" interrupted Helmeir searching the ground for a stone.. "Ah this one should do the trick..." he continued as he grabbed a stone from the ground.
"We cannot allow them to escape with that scroll, at all costs we must get it back....." Nevfang commanded
"Aye, if they know wha's good for 'em they'll be sure an' give it back...." grinned Helmeir running the stone across his axe.....
"Do as you wish my friend, but I am getting that scroll back.." said Nevfang quickly moving into the trees and within a few seconds he was gone..
"Hey....Wait for me, ye' blasted elf...." Helmeir cried out as he leaped from the stone he was resting on and ran after Nevfang......

Several red-and-blue Crusader soldiers stood about the city gates, questioning and occasionally seraching everyone before allowing them to leave the city. A knight on horseback oversaw their operations.

The Old Man leading, the three companions made their way to join the queue. It was a couple of hours before they had made their way up to the front of the line.

"Names?" asked a soldier, holding parchment and inked quill.

"Magarus, Aethelred Dractor, and Elwen dan Raleigh," said the Old Man.

"Please wait a second," said the soldier. While he went to confer with the knight, the other soldiers tightened their ranks about the gates.

"I don't like this," muttered Sir Dractor, as the knight roe up.

"I understand that one of you is Elwen dan Raleigh?" he said.
"Would she please come with me. I am ordered to bring her to Castle Leiden to be submitted to questioning.

"I don't think so," said Sir Dractor, stepping in between Elwen and the knight. "She's not going anywhere until we know why." The Crusader looked up at the imposing figure of Sir Dractor. Behind him, his soldiers slowly began to increase in number, as other detachments came out of their hiding places in the alleys and bordering buildings.

"Be careful, knight," said the Crusader, "lest you find yourself up against a full two hundred men."

"You be careful, knight," replied Sir Dractor coldly, "lest your two hundred men find themselves up against me." The Crusader blanched fearfully, and took a step back. Sir Dractor siezed the opportunity, and smashed him to the cobblestones with his shield. He drew his broadsword, and charged at the Crusaders.

Behind him, Elwen had drawn her blade, and the Old Man, very regretfully, started to follow them through the soldiers, although making no effort to fend them off himself.

Fortunately for the Crusaders, Sir Dractor had no intention of killing them, simply of fighting a path out of the city. They must have noticed, because the Crusaders positioned outside of the city closed and barred the gates from the other side.

Soon, Sir Dractor had cut his way to the gates, Elwen and the Old Man behind him, but they were now trapped against them, the Crusaders regrouped and surrounding them.

"Stand back," said the Old Man, and as he raised his staff, a mighty force shot from it, and blew open the gates, knocking them off their hinges, and onto the ground. The Crusaders outside of the city were also blown several feet away.

Not stopping to wonder, Sir Dractor took the lead, pushing Elwen and the now-wheazing Old Man before him, as they made their escape to the countryside.